


Blue & Pink Makes Purple

by mybigfatcat



Series: GRi drabbles and oneshots for a rainy day [4]
Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Colors, Las Vegas, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 13:28:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15220154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mybigfatcat/pseuds/mybigfatcat
Summary: “Hey, come join me!” Jiyong shouts at him from across the pool.A oneshot for a rainy day.





	Blue & Pink Makes Purple

**Author's Note:**

> The concept of GRi bathed in "bi lighting" came up in discussion. And so did the GRi instagram moment in Las Vegas during the 2015 MADE tour.
> 
>  
> 
> DISCLAIMER: This is fiction and nothing but fiction. It is not meant for commercial purposes.

Las Vegas.

 

“Hey, come join me!” Jiyong shouts at him from across the pool. It’s late afternoon and the sun is zapping them with enough radiation to make them glow in the dark. Jiyong thinks this is the appropriate time to sit leisurely on a pool floatie with a drink in his hand and his sunglasses perched on the tip of his nose.

It’s a very pretty nose, Seungri will give him that. And his skin is already tanned from the two days they’ve been here.

But Seungri prefers to keep walking until he reaches the deckchairs among the roman style colonnes and the terracotta tiles on them. He waves at his friend from the safety of the shadow.

Jiyong doesn’t seem to mind, he keeps floating and sipping his drink.

Seungri, the son of a hotel chain magnate, and Jiyong who comes from old money, are two very unlikely friends. And how they ever ended up staying in the same hotel suite is even more of a mystery.

Well, the events are as follows, but they still don’t make much sense to Seungri.

He had arrived early two days ago, he checked in at the hotel, and then he took a nap in the hope of it lessening the jet-lag he had suffered in New York. During the nap he had been rudely awakened by someone dropping a suitcase on the bed next to him.

“You’re in my bed,” a voice has said, and Seungri had pried his eyes open just to see a man about his age, looking like he’d robbed a runway, standing by the foot of the bed. Two porters had cowered by the door.

“But this is _my_ suite,” Seungri had argued and then cursed in korean as he tried to get out of bed but got entangled in the sheets.

Jiyong had crossed his arms over his chest and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Seungri had later learnt that this was a very decisive move.

“You’re korean?” Jiyong has asked in Korean.

“Yes,” Seungri had replied.

Jiyong had shifted weight from one foot to the other again when Seungri disentangled himself enough that he could sit up and face the other man fully.

And that’s how they had ended up sharing the huge suite.

Well, the barebone reasons to why.

Seungri still doesn’t get the actual situation fully. Or why he’s now Jiyong’s official travel companion.

However it had turned out that Kwon Jiyong was a pretty useful guy to keep around. He got invited to parties that first night that Seungri could only imagine of going to. There had been so much champagne that he wondered if there still was any of that sparkly wine left in the world. And Jiyong had been at the center of it all. Seungri soon made a place for himself at every party though, not letting a new city scare him. People were always people, and he knew how to party.

So until morning they moved from one event to the other, to a strip club from a fancy restaurant to a nightclub to a private lounge at a casino. Jiyong in a silk shirt and pants so tight they showed off every delicate angle of his lean legs. Jewellery in his ears that cost three year’s wages for any normal kind of person. There was something about his pretty face that disarmed everyone they met, and he used is just as Seungri used his naturally friendly personality.

Seungri could watch those legs for hours in the pink light of the strip club. Or in the blue and purple of the night club.

The green light of the fountain of their hotel broke the spell somewhat on their limousine ride back to the hotel.

The warm light of their suite wakes him up completely.

“If you wake me up early I’ll kill you,” Jiyong simply says as he pulls the silk sheets up to his chin on the bed. The only bed.

And so Seungri spends an hour, sees the sun rise above the Las Vegas casinos, as he lies awake and hyper aware of the man sleeping next to him.

Today, he finds himself watching Jiyong by the pool.

The cyan color of the water making Jiyong’s skin look blue.

“Can I get you something, sir?” a waiter asks, and Seungri doesn’t notice how Jiyong gets out of the pool and comes walking, dripping wet, in his direction.

“A cold beer, thank you,” he orders and the waiter walks off just as Jiyong arrives to snag the towel with the hotel monogram embroidered in gold hanging on the backrest of his deck chair.

“Beer?”

“Yes, beer, I like beer,” Seungri says a bit defensively and bristles at the sight of Jiyong smirking at him.

“Gives you a hell of a hangover,” Jiyong says as he lifts the sunglasses from his nose and this time perches them on his head. His hair is his natural black, short, and slicked back. Seungri somehow feels vain with his brown hair. Old money can afford the natural look.

“I’m not planning on getting drunk.”

“Yet?”

“Yet.”

Seungri tries his best to ignore the fact that he’s about eye level with Jiyong’s crotch. And those are some pretty small and _wet_ swim shorts. What’s more, all of Jiyong’s tattoos are on display, and there are many of them and most of them he’s seeing for the first time.

“Good for you, maknae,” Jiyong says in korean with another one of his equally infuriating and endearing smirks, and walks off.

Seungri’s eyes are fixed on the angel tattoo on his neck, how ironic he thinks, that the man has a celestial being on his neck because Jiyong looks nothing but sex and debauchery when he’s mostly naked and wet.

By evening there’s a couple of girls trailing Jiyong wherever they go, and Seungri is starting to get a headache from their magenta lipsticks and their lemon bright voices.

He has to force himself not to bury his face in the palms of his hands when one of the girls suddenly goes “so, are you guys like chinese or something?”.

Jiyong takes it with a stride, and steers the conversation to more bland and meaningless shores, but it doesn’t take long before he starts making excuses. Seungri is yet again confused.

When they leave the restaurant with the girls still seated at the table, Seungri studies Jiyong’s face a bit more closely.

“Hey, did you do that because of me?” he asks in the car.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, maknae,” Jiyongs says with one of those smirks. Or maybe it’s a smile and Seungri just hasn’t looked close enough.

“Stop calling me that, you don’t even know if I’m younger than you,” Seungri says stubbornly in English.

“Lee Seunghyun, born in 1990 on December twelfth. Heir of the Victory hotel chain. Am I right?”

Seungri closes his mouth.

“You know me?” he asks.

“Of course, we’ve been to the same parties a dozen times back in Seoul. Obviously you don’t remember, you’ve wounded my pride,” Jiyong jokes and Seungri has to force himself to breathe. Oh. My. God. Kwon Jiyong knows who he is. Like _knows_ knows.

It’s a realization that stays with him all through the hour they spend in the VIP lounge of their hotel’s casino. And during the private mahogany elevator ride up to their suite. Jiyong had gracefully lost $10.000 at the blackjack table. Seungri had won $10.000 on the roulette table.

“We’re a good team,”Jiyong joked as he stood there in his expensive hand-tailored suit and black tie. Seungri felt like his Armani suit was suddenly cheap in its presence.

“You win some, you lose some,” Seungri says out of pure reflex.

Jiyong seems to consider this.

“I think you’re used to winning, though,” he says just before the elevator pings and reaches their floor.

Seungri has to hurry after him to ask him what he means.

“Not just your name, I mean I’ve seen you and heard about you. You never lose, if you want a girl you get her, if you want a hotel you buy it. Or build it. That’s what they say. That Lee Seunghyun is called _Seungri_ for a reason.”

Seungri stares back at him, he can’t believe what he’s hearing. Does Jiyong-

“I admire you,” Jiyong says.

Well fuck, Seungri thinks. He might actually say it aloud because Jiyong laughs.

“I...”

“I know, you don’t remember ever meeting me, you don’t know who I am, other than where my money comes from,” Jiyong says and throws himself down on the bed.

Oh right, they’ve somehow moved through the entire suite without Seungri noticing it.

The room is bathed in purple from the nearby tall hotel building with LCD screens showing off their futuristic orchid decorations.

“Shoes,” Jiyong says. Seungri looks confusedly down at Jiyong’s feet.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me,” Jiyong offers as explanation. He’s resting against his arms on the bed, half-sitting, half-lying on his back, “and when you want something, you get it.”

The epiphany strikes like lightning.

Oh. OH!! Seungri feels a jolt of heady lust move through his body.

“Is that so?” he asks and starts untying one of Jiyong’s expensive leather shoes.

“Every time,” Jiyong says. Their eyes meet and Seungri thinks he might melt or combust from the intensity between them.

Mystery solved. He now definitely knows how and why they ended up sharing the suite together.


End file.
